No, thankfully it’s not another out-of-control DV incident chez Panache, which would be a logical assumption given recent trends.  This time it was another conversation that blew my mind to tiny little pieces….

Listen while you read to “Encendido”, a Latin-ish fusion piece that we plan to publish on a contemplated EP of our Latin-ish fusion pieces, which will now be possible assuming that Chi and I can tolerate each other’s existence for long enough to get it done.

16 March 2013

I knew from extensive past experience that having a cup of full-strength coffee would not turn out well, but we were out of decaf and Chi had already boiled the water and set out the mugs with ceramic cones and filters, so we used what we had on hand: some Peet’s Major Dickason roast that a friend had brought over and left with us. 

Caffeine makes me psycho.  I also happened to be PMS-ing bigtime.  The incident I totally overreacted to has too long of a backstory for it to fit neatly into this post, so fast forward to Chi standing there baffled, watching me inexplicably have a meltdown over something that did not have anything directly to do with him (at least not at that particular point), and he could not identify a single thing that would ostensibly give rise to such a hissy fit.  We were on our way out to do some food shopping and get something to eat, rather than me having to deal with clearing away the mess from dinner last night so I could cobble some sort of brunch together from the random odds and ends we’re usually left with by Saturday (late) morning.  As we headed up the 110 to Pasadena, I tried in vain to get Chi to understand that a high-strung, sleep-deprived, stress-traumatised person on amphetamines is not a good combination of events just on general principle, and that is a matter simple common sense, but he didn’t get it.

He is still immovably convinced that I am the crazy one with the drug problem and he is perfectly normal and sane.  While a casual observer who happened to witness what had just occurred would no doubt agree with him entirely and without reservation, what’s obviously missing is the context.  I am equally certain that if 1000 random people witnessed our interaction (and his interaction with other people) over the past several years, 999 of them would recognize what is actually going on, and the one person who would side with Chi would be the statistical outlier in that sample group who is just as messed up as he is.

What really made my jaw fall to the floorboards though was when he started going on with genuine concern about how I should get into therapy and get to the bottom of this, and that if I have a blowout like that when we have side players working with us, they will quit, etc., which is exactly what I have been concerned about with HIM!  (And as recently experienced by our producer at a pre-production work session the previous week, as a matter of fact!)  In my case, just make sure I don’t get my hands on any full-strength coffee before or during a rehearsal or recording session, and we’ll be ok.  Situation managed.  About my needing therapy, yes, point entirely taken: I certainly do!  However, what the therapist and anyone else familiar with the situation will immediately conclude is something along the lines of, “…of course HE’s the fucking problem!  Get HIM out of your house and out of your personal life, and then everything else will settle into place and you will eventually find your marbles!”